Author's Note:
A new reviewer, savelis, made a very good point about the absence of Regulus Black in this story. I just wanted to clarify that he will play a much larger and important role later on. Enjoy the new chapter and please leave a review (for motivation!). Many thanks to my beta, fictitiousburn, and thanks to all of you who are following me, particularly manatocfox, who has supported me from the very beginning.
Blood Thicker than Water
Of Fate and Happenstance
Here's what I remember about sixth year at Hogwarts. There was plenty of denial and confusion, melancholy, longing, a deep sense of loneliness, but most of all, an unrelenting undercurrent of sexual tension. Yes, that was around the time I teetered between sixteen and seventeen, an age of awakening for most teenagers. That awakening, however, turned out to be a longer process for me than for others. I believe the reason was that mine was not simply a sexual awakening, but one that shook the solidity of my family's beliefs, the very foundations of my upbringing and heritage.
As per custom, the process of awakening began with that warm, slightly drunken kiss at Everett's party. I seemed unable to forget it, and I wanted to check if my behavior wasn't something too out of the ordinary. Before the end of the summer holidays, right before returning to school, I asked Bella to recount her first experience with alcohol.
"Merlin's dripping beard, it was atrocious," she said to me, wearing a disquieting smile, "Third year. Rabastan and I sneaked into his father's wine cellar and we finished a whole bottle of Ogden's finest by ourselves. I don't remember how we got back upstairs, but Mother went ballistic when she found out."
I could not understand why, even having suffered from my first hangover, I still remembered the kiss with Ted so vividly. For the first few weeks as a sixth year, I had no answers to the questions that rang in my head in a relentless, frightening rhythm.
Why did you kiss someone you were raised to identify as a Mud-blood?
Why are you glad that Bella is not at Hogwarts anymore?
Why do you automatically look for him in the Great Hall?
I was either too clueless, or I was trying my hardest not to answer something I already knew. I believe it was the latter.
Bella's letters grew scarcer every day, and the rare times she wrote, her words sounded strained, as though she were wishing to confide things she had to keep quiet about. I know that I only felt relief while reading the short, stilted, and clearly made-up accounts of her life as a brand new wife. For the first time in my life I was grateful about the distance between us.
My closest friend in school was busy too that year, unable to make much time for me. Frank was desperately courting Alice, who was to become his future girlfriend, soul mate and wife, mother of his child, Auror partner, and the one who would follow him into the sad realm of insanity. She had still not given in to his advances, and was treating him with a strictly friendly attitude.
I scored highly on my OWLs, achieving full marks in every subject except for an E in Transfiguration. Slughorn cleared me on my first day back, and I started the year determined to prepare myself for a career in Healing. No one except Slughorn knew about my new ambition, something that definitely added to the sense of loneliness I felt that year.
Despite the icy distance I kept from Ted once back at Hogwarts, it seemed that fate had decided to thwart my resolutions that year. The sixth-years' schedules paired the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs together for joint Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology lessons, which ensured my seeing Ted every single day, excepting weekends.
"Hey, Dromeda. Why didn't you leave me your address at Everett's party? I could have written," said Ted on our first day back to Transfiguration class, occupying a desk behind my seat. Clothilde Yaxley, who usually sat beside me during classes, shot him a look full of disdain and said,
"Why on Earth is this Hufflepuff talking to you, Andromeda?" She looked utterly disgusted, her nose wrinkled as though she smelled something foul. The rush of hate for Clothilde, and a sudden, fierce sense of protectiveness towards Ted came on fast and unexpected.
"Shut the hell up, Clothilde," I snapped. Seeing her surprise and suspicion, I tried to quickly remedy.
"He doesn't know what he's talking about. He was drunk out of his mind at that party." I shot Ted a look that was admonishing and apologetic at the same time. He acknowledged it with a small nod. Clothilde raised her eyebrows and the class started. It was only after two hours of rigorous Transfiguration, which I found unexpectedly difficult, that I managed to find an empty classroom where Ted and I began our overdue clarifications.
"Listen, Tonks. I never gave you an address, because what happened at the party should not have happened," I said, staring at the closed door, unable to face him.
"How was your summer, Dromeda?" I heard him ask. I turned to find him leaning against a desk, looking composed and relaxed. I stared at him, wondering if he was making a fool out of me. He seemed to detect the hard look in my eyes, because he sighed and said slowly,
"Look, giving you a hard time is the last thing I want to do. I know all about what you Slytherins think is proper and right, and I also know that someone like you socializing with a Muggle-born Hufflepuff does not qualify as such."
I realized I had been holding my breath. His voice sounded soft, quiet, and somehow reassuring. I let him continue, knowing I had no words left to say.
"I'm a Muggle-born, but I do know how things work. I don't necessarily like these traditions, especially the inter-house hostilities, but who am I to tell others how to act?" Ted left the desk and walked straight towards me. He stood close enough that I could see the flecks of gold on his irises, a deep, warm ocher color that I only just found out I loved. There was no trace of resentment or judgment in his look.
"You're intriguing to me, Dromeda. My instinct tells me that I should get to know you." Ted looked away and smiled as though he found his own words amusing, and reached out a hand as though looking for mine. Before I even had the time to process the meaning of the gesture, however, Ted dropped his arm.
"But I don't want to give you a hard time. I'll stay away from you."
Ted, who eventually proved to be the most steadfast person I know, never broke his resolution. I eventually broke it for him, instead.
In early November of that year, Professor McGonagall, keeping true to her reputation as the toughest teacher in the history of Hogwarts, administered a mock Transfiguration test for her sixth-year NEWT students. We received the grade of the test, as it would be scored in the real exam. My P/A (Poor/Acceptable) drove me to finally seek an appointment with Professor McGonagall.
"I know you work hard on your assignments, Miss Black," she said, once done surveying the dismal contents of my test paper. She looked at me sternly through her glasses. It had cost every bit of my pride to come talk to her, and I could not believe she was making it difficult for me. After a small silence, her expression softened slightly, and she said,
"Professor Slughorn told me you're preparing to become a Healer, so I understand that it's important for you to get a top score in Transfiguration." I nodded gratefully. She suddenly sprung into action, straightening herself on the seat and looking for quill and parchment in the drawers of her desk.
"Your best chance of improving is to receive tutoring from a student in your same year. I notice that students always do better when assisted by peers outside the classroom. I recommend you work with Mr. Tonks of Hufflepuff."
I almost laughed in disbelief. When I saw that she was writing a note on a piece of parchment, however, I came to my senses and realized that Professor McGonagall was probably the last person who would pull a prank on me.
"Professor, isn't there anyone else who could tutor me?" I asked. She answered, without stopping her writing,
"Theodore Tonks is unquestionably the top Transfiguration student at Hogwarts. Received the highest Transfiguration OWL in your year, and he's also part of the Mentoring Club. He is also your classmate. I wouldn't object if I were you, Miss Black."
Tonks and Mentoring Club, I thought amusedly, unable not to smile at the aptness of the combination. Ted was part of the unpopular Mentoring Club, known for how its arduous duties were always met with little to no rewards. Club membership at Hogwarts could sometimes tell you more about a student than his/her house. For instance, a student belonging to the Quidditch team gets invited to parties and trips out to Hosgmeade, whereas you can tell that members of the Wizards Chess Club like calm and quiet in the common room. Students tend to envy Slug Club followers, while they think of Mentoring Club volunteers as overly kind, overly idealistic souls who will end up doing charity work after Hogwarts.
The only members of Mentoring Club I knew of were Lily Evans, Sirius' friend Remus Lupin and now, Ted Tonks. Belonging to both the Slug Club and Mentoring Club, like Ted, meant that the student was not only gifted, but also selfless.
"I set up your first tutoring session with Mr. Tonks for tomorrow evening at seven," said Professor McGonagall, a tone of finality in her voice. She sealed the parchment, attached it to the leg of her owl and sent it soaring out the window.
We met on Thursdays and Saturdays every week for the rest of our sixth year. McGonagall allowed us to use one of her classrooms on the third floor, a small one for her NEWT students, situated perfectly above a wonderful view of the greenhouses. We met around the time of sundown, and the room used to fill up with a tender, orange-to-pink sunlight that, apparently, softened both my cold looks and my detached attitude.
"You're a completely different person when we meet here, you know that?" said Ted one winter evening in early January, soon after returning to school from the Christmas holidays. He had lit up the lanterns, having just announced that we needed a break from practicing the Conjuring Spell, which I had spent the whole holiday failing to master.
"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly wary. He offered a gentle smile, but didn't reply for some time, as though he were debating what to say next.
"You practice so hard that you forget to keep your distance. You smile more often and you look peaceful when you concentrate," he said finally. He produced a bottle of gillywater from his bag, and said with a cheerful flourish,
"Your favorite, isn't it?"
I smirked against my will and accepted the glass. "What's yours? That weird vodka stuff?"
Ted gave out a guffaw, raised his glass towards me and said,
"Cheers, Dromeda. You're a delight to teach."
I vaguely understood the double meaning behind that last statement. Did he imply the innocuous teaching of Transfiguration or the covert teaching of his Muggle ways? I chose not to dwell on the thought. We took our time drinking the gillywater, and by the time I finished, I felt less discouraged. I practiced the complicated wand movement while waiting for Ted to stow the bottle away. He placed his hands on the desk I was using, so that he seemed to tower over my seated figure. But when he spoke, his voice couldn't have been kinder.
"Now, Dromeda, I want you to try the Conjuring Spell in a different way. Choose a simple object and keep it in your head. But instead of imagining it whole, try to picture it as broken, holding on to its different fragments."
I closed my eyes and thought hard of a shattered teacup, its handle, sides and bottom separate and broken.
"You got that? Alright, now try your hardest to think of the best way to piece those parts together. How do they fit together to make it whole again? Cast the spell with that image firmly in mind. Go on, try it."
I bit my lip in concentration, giving my best effort to hold the image in my mind while uttering the spell and using the correct wand movement. I didn't realize that I had kept my eyes shut until I heard Ted's whoop of triumph. I opened my eyes to see a small teacup sitting on the desk. I could see some jagged lines running down its rounded sides, and it was a smaller cup than I had imagined, but I had finally succeeded in conjuring something. I could not believe my eyes.
"It's all you, Dromeda. You did this!" Ted was laughing and flashing his bright smile at me like this had been my very first attempt casting the spell. He had that rare gift of convincing people that their achievements were theirs only. My chest tightened from a foreign, unbearably sweet sensation, and I had to suppress the strong urge to walk straight into his arms. Instead, I only offered him a weak smile, silently wondering whether Ted Tonks possessed the ability to mend not just mere objects, but perhaps people's souls too.